


An Acceleration of Gravity

by notoverjoyed



Series: Not Yet a Hero [2]
Category: Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Arguing, Gen, Mentions of Death, Mutant Powers, Not Beta Read, Origin Story, Parent-Child Relationship, juvenile justice system, rather angsty, which I know very little about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoverjoyed/pseuds/notoverjoyed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy fucked up.</p><p>Waking up after his powers emerge, he gets to deal with the consequences.</p><p>Sequel to: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I said I would do this in May/June, but rl got in the way. So here is the continuation of Tommy's origin story. I hope you like it!

There is a scent like dirt… and eroded cinder blocks…a choking concrete dust. He hears a quiet moaning… but who?… It’s already growing far away.

“… was intentional?… arson …”

“… wounded, one dead …”

“… centered on … first floor … room …”

Somewhere in the depths of his sleep, Tommy feels a sense of urgency, of restrained energy. The sensation swells until it brings him near to consciousness, where he lingers. For some reason he is unwilling to wake up. His eyes flicker open as slow voices filter through the thin walls of … an unfamiliar room, a hospital room? It’s white and the lights are off. There is a skinny line of brightness peeking under the door with shadows moving across it. The muted words become clear as his mind unfogs just a bit. Hearing them, he immediately wants to dive back into unconsciousness.

“He’s been in like this since the explosion, Mrs. Shepherd” one of the muffled voices says. Tommy tries, but can’t go back to sleep. Distantly he wonders why the words seem to come so slowly and from so far away, farther away than just the next room.

‘What happened,’ he wonders, and the next moment, ‘What did I do?’ 

The questions drift up through his mind with a hint of guilt and foreboding, and a simmering anger. But anger over what? He digs his elbows into the hard hospital cot and props himself up, but can't think. His mind still too fuzzy from unconsciousness to remember.

"It’s been almost a day and he isn’t even injured. He should be awake by now, shouldn’t he?” He recognizes his mother’s voice. What did he do to put that anxious and weary tone to her words? He can tell that she’s more tired than usual, even though her words are slow and drawn out.

“With what the authorities told me, it may be entirely normal for him to sleep for a while after the accident. As far as we know…,” The voice fades away.

“…only unconscious ... should wake up soon, you can talk to him then, Mrs. Shepherd” a man’s voice says after a long moment. The door opens and the sound becomes louder.  A man in a doctor’s coat comes through, and following, a hard-looking man. His mother trails the men into the room, her face strained.

‘Is she worried about me?’ Tommy thinks as he sits up further. His brow wrinkles as he groggily tries to remember. What could have caused her to be so concerned for her son? It’s out of character for her to actually  _care_.

“Awake?” the doctor exclaims at seeing Tommy sitting up and awake. With a glance to Tommy’s mother he says, “Hard to keep your boy down,” with forced cheerfulness. The attempt at reassurance doesn’t work, and her frown deepens at his casual tone. It occurs to Tommy that she may not be worried for  _him_.

“Hello Tommy, I’m Dr. Nester,” the doctor says with a fleeting smile. His face grows serious again as he asks, “Now, do you remember what happened?”

Fuzzily, he answers, “No… I was late … in detention …” His voice falters as he tries to recall.

“There was an explosion” the doctor offers gently, and Tommy’s scowls and thinks. A flash of guilt, and his heart seems to beat a bit faster as the memory surfaces. An explosion, and the sounds of people screaming, and running away ... from  _him_. The memory must have shown on his face because the other man steps forward with the flash of a badge, a detective.

“The other students, the teacher, they remember the explosion.” The detective casts an eye at him. Tommy looks away, and hears a quiet rattling sound as his shoulders tense.

“Can you tell us anything about it?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tommy replies, his wide-open eyes avoiding the man’s hard gaze.

He must have spoken a little too quickly for the taste of the detective, who frowns and says, “The others say you did”

“And you believe them,” his mother interjects, and the faint noise grows louder.

“The witness’s agree, they say they saw him---”

“I know what they said, about how he did it,” his mother interrupts tersely. “They’re wrong, he doesn’t have any, um,  _abilities_  like that.”

‘Like you would know’, Tommy thinks, a little surprised at the venom of the thought. But then, they  _are_  talking about him as if he’s not in the room.

“The other students saw him, the teacher saw him, the way he was acting.”

“No.”

“He was vibrating ma’am,” the detective states bluntly. “There was some sort of energy and it was coming from him.”

“Are you trying to tell me he’s some sort of , of…”

“Mutant, Mrs, Shepherd,” the doctor confirms. “We’ve sent blood sample out for testing,” he finishes. Tommy would frown at what he’s pretty sure is a violation of his rights, but he’s still tired. Tired despite the energy still buzzing under his skin, and the shock at the word  _mutant_ , and that  _noise_. There’s an interminable stretch of silence as his mother and the police officer look at him. He fidgets in his bed under their gaze.

The doctor breaks the silence. 

"Its standard procedure in these types of accidents, I assure you,” he reassures.

“ _No_ ,” his mother says again, with more force this time, her weariness gone for the moment. “He can’t be, neither Frank nor I, we never, he’s never shown anything like this before.”

“I know it must be a shock.”

“What the hell-,” Tommy interjects, tired of the adults talking over his head. Hi parents and the doctor stare like they've just noticed his presence.

“Calm down,” says the officer, and then Tommy sees his hand on the metal rail of his hospital bed, shaking …

“Calm down,” the officer says again. Tommy sees that his hand is actually vibrating quickly enough for the whole bed to shake. The others are just talking so slowly in comparison…

His hand stills, and the others in the room relax.

“Good, good,” the detective soothes, his gaze darting between Tommy and his mother.

“You can’t be in here,” the doctor says with his air of authority. The woman who walks through the door looks unimpressed. A man slips in behind her, Tommy’s father, his face stoic and unrevealing.

“I’m afraid I can,” the woman says as she walks toward Tommy sitting up in his bed, his mother standing beside him. “I’m his lawyer,” she says, and his mother’s face hardens at the words.

“Frank,” she says flatly at her soon to be ex-husband, but it’s the lawyer who replies with a nod.

“Mr. Shepherd has hired me,” she says to the room at large. “His father and I believe that I should be present while you speak with him."

“He’s not being charged-,” the man replies, but she interjects.

“Then you should leave my client to recover,” she says, the doctor nodding in agreement.

“…Yet,” the detective says, “He hasn’t been charged yet.” The words hang in the air for a moment, an eon for Tommy. His heart beats fast and loud in the stillness of the hospital room.

“Then leave,” the lawyer declares, breaking the silence. The detective does just that, backing  slowly out of the door with his eyes on Tommy the entire time.

“We’ll be in touch,” the detective says, and is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this yesterday, but the computer was tied up and I couldn't steal the ethernet cord to use with my laptop. Temporarily not having to pay rent by moving back in with your parent's after graduation is great, but the lack of wifi is annoying.

A somber silence hangs in the air as the door closes behind the detective. The gravity of the situation sits heavily on everyone in the room. Tommy is the exception, feeling lightheaded as he shifts his feet to the floor. He toys with the hospital slippers left beside his bed.

“They can’t charge him with anything,” Tommy’s mother says hurriedly. “Like I said, He can’t have done what they said.”

“There isn’t always a family history-“ the doctor begins, but his mother interrupts abruptly.

“My son is not a mutant,” she bursts out, her voice going high-pitched and breathless. His father takes in a quick breath, and the deep lines in his forehead become more pronounced. The doctor’s lips tense.

“And he wouldn’t have wanted to hurt anyone,” his mother added. It was almost as an afterthought.

The lawyer puts a hand on Mrs. Shepherd’s arm, only for the limb to be snatched back. Tommy’s father hasn’t even spoken since he entered the room. Now he moves forward as the lawyer begins to speak.

“We must consider the possibility that he is, in fact, a mutant. As a mutant he might have the ability to ... do what he is accused of doing.” Mr. Shepherd nodded and was about to say something himself, but-

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!,” Tommy shouts, angry and tense. He stands up beside the bed where he had sat only a moment ago. It's not his shout that stuns the adults, but the loud snap of the handcuff breaking. Tommy looks at his wrist, then the arm of the bed, each with one half of a handcuff left dangling. He panics at his unintentional show of force. Before the others even realize the source of the sudden noise, he's gone from the room.. He dashes right past the detective lingering outside the door.

Nurses and doctors flinch and shriek as Tommy dodges haphazardly around them. He rubs his wrist as he jumps over and around gurneys and carts.

_Force = Mass x Acceleration_

The equation pops into his head, which he assumes he remembered from an old science lesson.

“I must have gone so  _fast_  to break the chain,” he says giddily to himself, slamming into a wall in his distraction. Now there's a pain in his shoulder to match the one in his wrist.

Still, he runs, his panic gone for now, and he revels in the speed, the  _power_. Bursting through one final door, he slides to a halt in the parking lot behind the hospital. Gravel flies out from his skidding slippered feet.

“The power,” he says out loud, and he enjoys the knowledge of it for a brief, beautiful moment. Soon though, his memories catch up with him. His satisfaction turns sour in his stomach as he remembers what happened. He finally realizes the full extent of what he’s done. Those people, who the doctor said had  _died_ , from an explosion the officer said  _he_  had created, it was his fault.

“It was me, they-,” he starts “I didn’t  _know_.” The words stutter in his mouth.

‘You didn’t care,’ the thought rises quietly in his mind.

He stands there and stares at his hands. He's frozen with guilt and blind to the stares of people in scrubs staring at him warily, whispering. None of them dared to approach him, having seen his explosive exit from the building. A few minutes later, several security officers arrive and the spectators step aside.  They're followed the detective and Tommy’s new lawyer. His parents are slow to follow. They arrive separately just as several cruisers and a police van pull into the lot.

Tommy is quiet, still gazing at his hands as they're cuffed in front of him. As the still humming thrum of his power fades, he doesn’t resist as they load him roughly into the van.

...

‘What did I do?’ The thought races through Tommy’s mind again and again, a terrible song on repeat. Everything he’s been in trouble for before, it seems so small now, compared to this.

He doesn’t remember the police arriving at the hospital, or the men hauling him up and loading him into the van. What he does remember are the strange handcuffs locked around his wrists. They’re thicker than the pair from before, and they weigh heavy on his wrists. He's almost grateful for them.

“Power dampeners,’ he thinks and it’s true that the world has slowed down some, if not back to normal. He won’t spend quite as long jostling against the hard metal walls of the van. And that deadly explosive power, that’s gone too, or at least out of reach. Tommy didn’t want to hurt ... or  _kill_  any more people.

It feels like a long time before the jerking journey ends, and with it Tommy’s guilty rumination. There's a short walk to the building, and then begins the booking procedure. He’s experienced it once before, but never like this. He stumbles around wherever the officers direct him,

_Stand here._

And stares around stupidly,

_Look there, at the light._

His hands fumbling in the cuffs.

_Put your thumb right there._

Soon enough, he’s handed some loose grey clothes and told to change, then shoved into a cell, alone. The cuffs stay on.

Staring blankly at the dingy white tile of the walls, Tommy considers the trouble he’s in. The lingering shock from the realization of what he’s done is wearing off. A sinking dread is taking its place.

“You screwed up  _enormously_  Shepherd,” he whispers to himself. Enormous is right, compared with the petty crimes that earned him his trouble-making reputation.

“Getting a bit ambitious going from vandalism to murder-." He cuts himself off roughly and corrects his words.

“Not murder.”

_An accident_

“A ... an accident, not my fault. I didn’t  _know_!” With these rising words, his face starts to twist in pain, and his mouth snaps shut. Lips pressed together and head bowed, Tommy wonders desperately just how he can explain.

“An accident,” he whispers. “I have to make them understand.” Suddenly, this overhead lights go out, their fluorescent glow slowly powering down. Tommy can’t see a thing; he hadn’t realized how late it was getting. It’s lights out, he guesses, though there's a faint glow from the window in the door of his cell. As if summoned by the darkness, exhaustion comes over Tommy in a wave, and he gives into it.

Pulling his sock-covered feet onto the thin cot he’s been sitting on, he shivers. The cold of the concrete floor has seeped into hi down to his bones as he worried. Anxious still, he curls upon himself on the cot and soon sinks into unconsciousness. He sleeps restlessly, waiting for morning in gloomy anticipation.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget how much longer it takes to type things out when I write them by hand, so its a day late again. I do tend to write a bit more when I do it by hand though, so a bit of this chapter got moved over to the next, and its still a bit longer than I planned. Anyway, enjoy, and comment if you please.

Tommy wakes up when the light comes on, his eyes opening in a squint against the glare. His mind was still fuzzy form sleep when a tray was slammed through a slot in the door.

Suddenly ravenous, he grabs the tray.  Breakfast is lukewarm scrambled eggs, but he stuffs it in his mouth anyway. 'How long has it been since I eaten,' he thinks. There's dry toast is dry, and it tastes fantastic after more than a day without food.

Chugging the last drops of milk form a blue carton, his hunger fades and makes way for some of last night's dread. The police are sure to want to talk to him, today probably. And really, what can he say? He hadn't planned on blowing up the school, but he'd definitely fantasized. He wasn't even alone in fantasizing, and he never knew he had the ability to carry out the deed.

"They're not going to believe me," he mutters to himself. He's nauseous, but it's not just from eating to fast.

It hasn't been long since he finished his rushed meal, when he hears a rattling at the door, and it opens creakily. A police officer is standing outside the cell and gestures at Tommy. "Up and at 'em kid," he says, and Tommy stands at the officer's insistence.

Tommy scowls, but says nothing as he moves toward the door. The officer moves aside to let Tommy step through the doorway. 

"That way, kid"

He points down the hall, and falls a step behind Tommyas they begin to walk.

By this time, Tommy's realized that  he's still a bit faster then he should be. He's not quite back to how he was a few days ago, but quick enough. 'So these things really work," he muses, looking down at his cuffed hands. He hadn't noticed the cuffs' effect earlier. The shock of the past couple days has made his perception of time fuzzy. 

Tommy's train of thought is broken as the officer grabs his shoulder.  Tommy's momentum had kept him moving, so the officer had to lunge to stop him. They stop just past a gray metal door on the left. 'Still faster than you,' he thinks and chuckles, but the officer ignores him. Instead, the man pulls out his keys and unlocks the a metal door on the left. He's a bit gruffer than earlier as he tells Tommy what to do. He orders, "Go in, sit down, don't move." Then he shoves Tommy into the small gray room. All that's in the room is a metal table and two matching chairs. The door shuts heavily behind him, and the scrape of a key in the lock comes from the other side of the door.

Tommy snorts as the man's footsteps fade. It looks like he gets to wait for someone to show up, so he settles into the chair closest to the door. He tries to cross his arms on the table, but the chain on his handcuffs is too short. The only other comfortable position he can find is to lean forward and rest his weight on his elbows. He sighs, and lets his head fall forward into his hands.

"They make you wait on purpose," came the muffled mutter.

He sits like that for a while, mind racing with unpleasant thoughts of jail cells and explosions. The thoughts multiply; he can't outrun them. He taps his feet on the floor, light and nervous and  inhumanly quick. It's still hard to keep track of time, so he's unsure how many minutes pass before he again hears the rattle of keys. He lifts his head from his hands and sees the lawyer form the hospital walk into the room, followed by his parents. His mother's forehead is lined with stress, his fathers mouth a thin tense line.  Neither of them looks like they've slept much. They maintain a careful distance from each other while standing stiffly near the door. The lawyer isn't so shy: she moves to stand by the chair across the table from Tommy.

"Can we get a couple more chairs please?," she calls to someone just outside the room. There's an unintelligible answer, and footsteps leading away. His parents stare at the door, following the sound, but the lawyer turns to Tommy and tries to smile.

She greets him, saying, "Good morning Thomas."

"Not really." he blurts out, and his father scowls.

The lawyers face turns to a grimace as she concedes, " I guess not." There's a pause before she continues with a more serious expression. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself yesterday. I'm Ms. Mirandes, and your father hired me to represent you while we sort out what happened the other day."

She pauses to make sure Tommy understood her, but he just jerk his head in a nod, wanting her to go on. Speaking more quickly now, she continues. "As soon as the officer comes back with a couple more chairs, were going to talk about what happened Tuesday. And what's going to happen from here on." She glances at his parents, who stand a bit straighter under her gaze.

Tommy is saved from responding to this by the arrival of a uniformed man with two folding chairs. It's the same officer who brought Tommy to the interview room. He's about to set the chairs by the door before the lawyer stops him.

"Set them down right here," she requests, gesturing to the side of the table to Tommy's right. The officer sighs and walks brusquely past Tommy's parents. He startles them, and they move out of his way. The officer unfolds the chairs and plops them down with a careless clatter. The next moment he's gone without a word, shoving the door closed behind him. Tommy's parents each take a chair and sit, leaving a large gap between their seats.

Ms. Mirandes's face turns serious as she speaks. "The police will want to ask you about Tuesday. Before they arrive I would like you to describe to me what happened as best as you can remember."

Tommy fidgets in his chair for a moment, but takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

"Well, the day was normal, it just went by really slowly. Then I ... I had detention, and I was super-stressed about it, and I got there and couldn't concentrate on anything. Everything was still so fu- friggin' slow, and-." His voice breaks off as he relives the anxiety.

"Go on," Ms. Miranades encourages with a gentle voice.

Tommy's voice shudders as he continues. "And then I started, um, vibrating or something, then the desk, and it felt ... I felt better, It felt good." He pauses again, then says all in a rush, "But I didn't know it would happen, I didn'tthinkitwouldalljustblowup!" The last few words are loud and strained, and it takes the others a moment to respond. Before they can, there's a knock at the door.

There's no time to answer the knock before the door opens. The detective from the hospital walks in, another man in a suit behind him. They close the door behind them and move to arrange themselves on either side of the room.

"Hello again Mr. Shepherd," says the detective to Tommy's left, the one from the hospital. Tommy doesn't reply, just glares down at his cuffed hands. The detective smirks and continues. "I'm Detective Wallace, and this is Detective Munroe." He gestures to the suited man standing to Tommy's right, next to his parents.

Detective Munroe leans down and speaks softly to Tommy. "We need to know what happened on Tuesday, Mr. Shepherd."

"It was an accident,” Tommy replies, almost too quickly to be understood

"So you were responsible for the explosion," Detective Wallace retorts.

Tommy sputters back a reply, "I, uh, I guess, but I didn't know anything would explode."

"He's a mutant," his lawyer interjects. "We think the explosion was the first manifestation of his powers." Tommy’s father stiffens in his seat when he hears this, but say nothing.

“Of course, that makes sense,” Detective Munroe says. “He can’t control it, like a tic.”

“A tic that killed a person and demolished most of the building,” comes Detective Wallace’s pointed reply.

The tension in Tommy's chest ratchets up when he remember the damage he's caused. His anxious gaze darts around the room before settling again on his bound hands. 

Detective Munroe sees his guilty expression. He adds kindly, "But, I'll think you'll be happy to know that your friend, what was his name again Greg?"

"Danny, Donny, something like that," the other detective answers.

"Yeah, Donny, he survived without a scratch," Detective Munroe finishes.

'A friend?' Tommy thinks, and it takes a moment for him to find the words. "That's ... good."

Detective Wallace huffs a humorless laugh. He says, "Its great actually, because your friend had a lot to tell us about you." Then he leans down close to Tommy and adds," especially about what went on Monday night."

His lawyer sits up and frowns at the detective's revelation. The words give Tommy a moment's panic as he wonders what the detective is talking about. 'Nothing  _happened_  that night,' he frets.

Hi mother rubs her forehead and moans, "What did you do Monday night, Tommy?"

"Yes, what  _did_ you do that night Mr. Shepherd?" Detective Munroe echoes, a look of concern arranged on his face.

"I ... went out," Tommy answers, turning his face away from the detective.

"But what did you do? Where did you go?" Detective Munroe prods.

"I was looking for a party," Tommy replies, adding silently, 'I  _normally_  know where to find them."

"But you couldn't find on on a Monday night, so what'd you do then."

"He went to the park," Detective Walllace says before Tommy can answer. He then turns to Tommy and inquires. "What do you do at the park, meet girls, do drugs.?"

"Get to the point, detective." Ms. Mirandes interjects.

"No," Tommy snaps back defensively, " I don't need drugs to have fun." Before the detectives can push, he continues. "And there was only the one girl, some guy's girlfriend"

"Yeah, your friend Donny told us," Detective Wallace replies in an offhand way. He adds, " He told us those guys were setting off fireworks, which is illegal to do in the city by the way."

Tommy almost rolls his eyes. Instead he responds, "Yeah, well some guy had 'em left over from New Year's or something. I just watched."

"Just watched?"

"Hung out, talked to people, sh- stuff like that."

Detective Wallace's expression hardened as he responds, "We heard what you talked about."

"What did Donny tell you?" Tommy asks, his frustration beginning to show through.

"He said that  _you_  were the one suggested using the bigger fireworks to make an explosion at school."

Tommy looks at the detectives, slightly dumbfounded. Seeing his confusion, Detective Munroe continues. "You said you would blow up the school if you could."

"It was a joke!" Tommy cries.

"It stopped being a joke when people  _died_  Mr. Shepherd!" Detective Wallace snaps back.

"I didn't know I actually  _could_  blow up the school when I said that!

"So it was a coincidence then?"

"If Thomas says it was a coincidence, then it was." Tommy's lawyer interrupts finally, standing up to address the detectives. "Now would you like to tell us what you're charging my client with?"

Detective Munroe replies. "If it was an accident then he'll go through juvenile court, probably for manslaughter. However, he could be tried as an adult for something more serious if we can prove it wasn't accidental."

"So you don't know," Ms. Mirandes bites back.

"That's for the judge to decide" Detective Wallace says.

"Good to know," she replies, narrowing her eyes. "If you don't mind, I would like to speak with my client and his parents about this." When they make no move to leave, she tilts her head and says firmly, "Alone."

The detectives take their their leave, the door clanging shut behind them. Ms. Mirandes sinks into her seat and sighs, while Tommy slouches in his chair.

After the detectives leave the room, both his parents are bursting with things to say. His mother is fretting over Tommy's: what he'll be accused of, what his record will look like. His father spends a few minutes sputtering over the fact that Tommy's a mutant. Then he asks if it would be possible to 'fix' him, as if that would undo what he's already done with his powers. Tommy zones out of the conversation, suddenly exhausted. Its just as well, as there's nothing more he can say.

Soon enough, the conversation between his parents  devolves into a bickering match. Ms. Mirandes looks increasingly irritated at having to playing referee.

He's used to the arguments from before the separation, so he doesn't pay any attention to the back and forth. He's almost fallen into an uneasy doze when Ms. Mirandes calls a halt to the meeting. 

"Enough," she says wearily. "We can't do anything else until the hearing tomorrow when we can talk to the judge."

With reluctance, his parents stop arguing. Tommy says little as Ms. Mirandes goes over what they'll be expected to do tomorrow. He's told that he won't even be in the room for most of the hearing. He stops listening, instead fidgeting with the cuffs still locked onto his wrists.

Now that they're no longer speaking to each other, his parents are all too happy to leave. They barely acknowledge Tommy as they exit the room. As exhausted as he is, he doesn't care, and sleepwalks back to his austere cell. 

He's missed lunch, so he falls immediately into a fitful doze. When dinner comes he eats it mechanically, and tries to sleep again. He's not used to sleeping so much, but his exhaustion and guilt make it easy. Unable to rest comfortably on the thin mattress, he tosses and turns throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue killed me on this chapter. Tell me if it was any good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the hiatus. Here's the next, and last, chapter of the thing, and on a Friday even. There's an addition to the last chapter too, so take a look.

Waking the next morning from a long night of fitful sleep, Tommy is reluctant to leave his cell. Still, he doesn't resist as he's escorted from the holding cells. They end up in a hallway studded with wooden doors and unpadded wooden benches in between.

"You'll wait here," Ms. Mirandes says. The glare from the guard reinforces her words. Tommy sinks onto the hard bench, sullenly avoiding his gaze. His lawyer ignores the look and strides through the double doors. They're closed firmly behind her by a suited man from inside the room. Tommy's left alone with the guard, who's now looking everywhere but at Tommy's bench. Sensing a long wait ahead of him, he squirms in his seat trying to find a more comfortable position. He tries to avoid thinking about what's about to happen to him, about what's already happened.

Despite his effort, thoughts of his powers drifted into his mind and stick persistently. It was his fucking mutant abilities that had gotten him here in the first place. Should be awesome, right? Able to blow stuff up and run faster than  most people can think. He scoffs at the idea. In reality, his explosive powers are uncontrollable, and the speed...

"That part wasn't so bad," Tommy mumbles to himself. He glances tentatively at the officer set to guard him. It's not like he can do anything with his hand locked in power-dampening handcuffs. The man seems to sense his gaze, and shoots a furtive look at the boy, but Tommy's already looked away. 

Staring at the cuffs, Tommy realizes that they'e only come off once since his arrest at the hospital. That was just to move his hands to the front to fingerprint him. 

'Guess they don't care about the chafing," Tommy muses, but he understands why. No one can understand more than him what he can do with them off. They don't shut down his powers completely, but they keep the most dangerous aspect of them out of reach. He can't help but feel a little bit grateful. 

He's still shifting restlessly on the bench when the doors open again. Another guy in a suit leans out and nods at the guard, who nods back and grabs Tommy's arm roughly. Tommy stands up immediately, hoping the man will let go. Still, the heavy grip stays as he's half-dragged through the doorway. The suited man steps back as they enter, and melds back into the crowd of men and women..

'They all look the same,' Tommy thinks as the guard releases his arm, and leaves the room. Or maybe he said it out loud, because his lawyer is smiling at him as she emerges from the group.

"You're very lucky," she says. She grabs his arm and leads him to a large table across the room, her grip far more gentle than the officer's. Seeing the confused look on his face, she says, "You'll see." Soon enough they're sitting. Tommy can see his parents at the table too, seated off to one side with several people between them. The detectives are there too, but they don't seem to be speaking to anyone else.

The rest of the hearing passes in a blur of legalese, but Tommy doesn't ask any questions. He's confused and disoriented, but manages to catch a few important bits of information. Most important is that he's not going to be tried as an adult. Whatever else happens, it should all be over when he turns 21. He gives a weak smile to Ms. Mirandes when she turns to make sure he's heard the news. They must have believed that it was an accident, that he hadn't known what his powers could do.

Enveloped in giddy relief, Tommy hadn't noticed people leaving the table. Now there's only a few left: he, his parents and his lawyer, and two other people. One of them, a stern-looking blond woman, is talking to his parents.

"Your son is very lucky that we learned of this new facility. It was the primary factor in our decision to keep this matter in juvenile court. 

"This facility, its especially for mutant's, right?" Tommy's mother asks hesitantly.

"Its for juvenile offenders with powers," the blond woman replies.

The last person in the room interrupts."Its the only reputable institution in the country for the containment of powered young adults." The speaker is a little man peering over tiny round glasses. "It's also the only one that incorporates scientific investigation of these powers into the program."

"By investigate, do you mean figure out how to get rid of these powers?," Tommy's father demands.

The others look at the bespectacled man with curiosity. There's a slight pause before he replies with a professional smile. "Naturally, in the case of more destructive abilities such as those of young Mr. Shepherd, that is the eventual goal," he says.

Tommy scowls. He's always heard that getting rid of mutant powers is impossible. Isn't that kind of the point of being a mutant? He leans forward in seat to better hear the conversation.  

"The point is that Tommy won't have to go into an adult facility," Ms. Mirandes interjects pointedly. The stern-looking blond woman nods in agreement. 

"It is not the state's intention to let any young person fall through the cracks of our justice system. Mutant or not," she declares.

"After all," the man in glasses adds. "We want all children who enter the system to come out better than when they entered it." After this proclamation, there's a beat of silence. The the man hastily continues, this time speaking to the blond woman.

"However, I trust you've been told that our facility is not yet ready to receive the boy?" She nods and replies, "We've arranged a space for him at a normal juvenile facility. They have special protocols in place."

"Why can't I just stay there," Tommy interrupts, speaking for the first time since he sat at the table. He's been to juvie before, and if he has to be locked up for several years, he'd prefer the more familiar system. 

"They don't normally accept kids with both powers and violent offenses," Ms Mirandes answers. "They'll allow you to stay for a few months, maybe a year, until this new place is ready for you.

"It's a safe place for him until we are prepared. Then he will enter our facility," the main in glasses says, ignoring the interruption. He smiles at Tommy's parents and adds, "It will be good for him." At this assertion Tommy's mother bobs her head earnestly. After a moment his father nods as well.

Tommy finds himself nodding his head too, despite his lingering apprehension. He jerks his head still. Suddenly impatient, he asks abruptly, "When do I leave?" 

"First things in the morning." the blond woman replies. Tommy can't suppress his instinctive scowl at the early rising. He thinks the woman smirks at his expression, but he's shuffled out his seat by Ms. Mirandes before he can be sure. Th lawyer wastes now time in getting him to the door, and they startle the police officer outside. It's the same man  as before, and he grabs his arm just as hard, but Tommy doesn't care. He's still tired and guilty, but some of the tension he's been holding in his chest is gone. After all that he's done, they're just going to send him to juvie. Juvie, that he can deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, and again, sorry its late. There's also an added bit to the last chapter, so go ahead and reread that if you haven't. This bit's shorter than I originally intended it to be, but stuff happens, and I think it turned out well. There'll be another installment of course, but I won't make myself a liar by telling you when. Just keep an eye out and thank you for reading. Comment if you like.

**Author's Note:**

> I go this up just in time for fanfiction author appreciation day. Thank you ever so much for reading. Comments are greatly appreciated and all that. Updates on Fridays (hopefully).


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